Chapter 3

"I'm staying at the old house for now. Haven't found a job yet," I said, looking at her. "Amelia, even though we're divorced, we did share a life together after all. Can you tell me how Patrick's doing? I really want to see him."

Amelia's eyes grew misty, tears brimming but not quite falling.

"Julian, Patrick... he's not with us anymore," she said, her voice trembling.

"What do you mean?" I pressed, my heart pounding.

"Three years ago, he was in a car accident," Amelia choked out. "He died right then and there."

I stood there in complete shock, like my whole world had just collapsed.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally managed to speak, my voice quivering, "How... how could this happen? He was only seven..."

Seeing how shattered I was, Amelia started sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry, Julian. I failed to take care of him. If you hadn't gone to prison, if we hadn't gotten divorced, maybe none of this would have happened to Patrick."

I seized her arm in desperation, my voice thick with emotion. "Please, take me to see him."

Amelia nodded shakily, her words barely a whisper. "A-Alright."

Without another word, Amelia drove me toward South Mountain Memorial Gardens, the silence in the car heavy and suffocating.

Patrick's grave was so simple—just his photo and his birth and death dates. In the picture, he had that radiant grin, exactly as I remembered.

I fell to my knees before his grave, not a single word could escape me.

I couldn't help it—tears just came pouring down.

It didn't matter whether it was just an act or raw emotion—standing there before my son's grave, I could feel my heart shaking uncontrollably.

Amelia stood behind me, quietly wiping away her tears.

"Last time he saw me was in prison." I choked. "He asked when I'd come home. I said soon. Never thought..."

"Julian, don't blame yourself. Patrick up there wouldn't want to see you like this," Amelia said softly.

I turned to her, voice trembling. "Amelia, even though we're no longer together, Patrick is our child. I want to come visit him every year on the day we lost him—is that okay?"

Amelia nodded. "Of course."

Before leaving, I asked her, "Are you... doing alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied after a moment. "Julian, take care of yourself. If you ever run into trouble, you can always reach out to me."

With that, she handed me a business card.

I glanced down and saw the name on it—Amelia Zhou.

Seeing that name, I couldn't help but laugh coldly to myself.

She'd even gone so far as to change her last name. Guess she really wanted to shut the door on her old life for good.

"Thanks," I said, slipping the card into my pocket. "I'll get going now."

As I watched Amelia's car fade into the distance, I whipped out my phone and dialed the number.

"Step one done. She bought it," I said.

"So what's next?" came a low voice from the other side.

"Stick to the plan. Tomorrow, she'll learn some debts never get paid."

Early the next morning, my phone buzzed—it was Amelia.

"Julian, are you at home right now? I was hoping I could come by and see you," she asked, her voice sounding a little hesitant over the line.

"Yeah. Is everything alright?" I answered, trying to sound calm.

"Oh, it's nothing important. I just wanted to bring something over for you," she replied, a hint of awkwardness in her voice.

An hour later, Amelia showed up at my door, her hands full of bags, looking a little weighed down.

She'd brought all sorts of essentials—rice, flour, cooking oil, milk, fruit, even some clothes.

She set the bags down and glanced around the house. "Since you just got out, I bet you're missing a lot. This place hasn't been lived in for ages—let me give you a hand and get it cleaned up."

"No, really, I can handle it myself," I said, trying to sound reassuring.

"It's no trouble at all. I don't have anything else to do anyway," she replied, already starting to tidy up. "Julian, living here all alone—does it ever make you think back to... everything before?"

"Sometimes little bits come back to me, but nothing ever feels complete," I said, settling onto the couch and watching her busy herself around the house. "Amelia, I forgot to ask you yesterday... did you ever get remarried?"

Amelia paused for a moment, her hands stilling. "Yeah, I'm married now."

"What's he like?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"He's a lawyer, and he's really nice," Amelia replied, not looking at me as she kept wiping down the table. "He knows about my first marriage and about Patrick. He's always been understanding about everything."

"That's good to hear," I said, lighting up a cigarette. "I hope you're happy."

At that, Amelia finally turned to face me, a whole storm of emotions swirling in her eyes.

"Julian, do you... do you blame me for the divorce?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Blame you for what?" I replied, keeping my tone light.

"For the divorce," Amelia said, biting her lip. "I know it was really tough for you back then, but I..."

"You don't have to explain," I said, waving my hand. "I might not remember all the details, but I'm sure you had your reasons. Honestly, it'd be too much to ask anyone to wait ten years for someone who's in prison."

Amelia's eyes turned red. "Julian..."

"Really, it's fine," I said, standing up and walking over to her. "The past is behind us. What matters now is that we both try to live our lives the best we can."

Just then, the doorbell rang.